


Silk Stockings

by krikkiter68



Category: In the Loop (2009), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bath Sex, Bondage, Explicit Sex, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, Shoe Kink, Stockings, Workplace Sex, lift sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkiter68/pseuds/krikkiter68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's holiday season, and Malcolm is lonely.  A new colleague decides to cheer him up*, to their mutual delight.</p><p>* And he's not the only one she cheers up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Millicent stared at her reflection in the mirror in the ladies' and painted a fresh heart of crimson lipstick on her full mouth. She smoothed back her lustrous, piled-up black hair then reached behind her, straightening the seams of her black silk stockings. It was nearly 5pm, and the day was still madly busy. "Never a dull moment", her agent had chortled to her down the phone the week before, and the woman hadn't been bloody wrong, for once.

Her first day as a float PA at DoSAC had been eventful. She'd undertaken errands and arranged meetings for a range of people, from the nice Ed, who greeted her at her desk with a coffee, to the not-so-nice Ben, who'd thrown a hissy fit at her because he'd run out of chocolate. There were many faces that were unfamiliar to her. The small, aggressive, strangely sexy Scotsman with the long eyelashes who stalked the corridors yelling into a mobile, for instance. There were a couple of tall advisors, rarely apart from each other, one resembling a middle-aged human Eeyore, the other absurdly youthful, tousle-haired and bespectacled, both seeming a little afraid of her. A short woman, who'd bounced past her wearing a sensible suit and silly trainers on her feet, carrying a willowy pot plant. She'd get to know all their names in time, but right now she needed to look in on Malcolm Tucker. His reputation preceded him: she hoped he'd be in a good mood. She rounded the corner, came to his door, and knocked.

There was a brief pause, and then the door was nearly ripped off its hinges from the inside.

"Aye? What the fuck is it now, ya fuckin' Standard Poodle-head..." Malcolm snarled, and then his eyes widened. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting her. He grinned in apology.

"Ah...sorry love, thought you were Ollie Reeder. Can I help ye at all?"

She gulped. He was terribly handsome, and she had to will herself not to glance downwards.

"Just...just wondered if you needed anything. A tea? Coffee?" Or me, she thought.

"No, it's too fuckin' warm and sultry for hot, milky drinks, love. I'll have a Fanta, thanks."

 

Five minutes later she was back in his office, watching him gulp down the cold orange fizz practically in one go. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sighed.

"Ah, that's better. Sit down, won't ye?"

She smiled, and settled into an easy chair opposite his desk. She felt his eyes linger just a fraction too long on the sexy high ankle straps of her stilettos. He hastily transferred his gaze to her face, and loosened his tie a bit. It could have been the warmth, but she could have sworn she saw him blush, just a little. 

"It's been a bit frantic, to be honest. I haven't had the chance to meet anyone, really. Ed's nice, but Ben...well..."

"Aye, I know. Ben's a fuckin' ball-bag. An' most of them are incompetent. Apart from Jamie. And Sam."

"Ah", she said, her gaze landing on his long, elegant hands, currently steepled in front of him. "Sam. Is he around?"

"She. Sam's my PA. She's on holiday right now."

"And what about you? Any holiday plans?"

"Nah. I fuckin' hate August. Couldn't lie on a beach, I'd go fuckin' nuts. Gotta stay and stop this lot from fuckin' up."

His smile seemed a bit sad to her, and she cleared her throat.

"Those plants look a bit parched, if you don't mind me saying so," she said, gesturing over at them. "Shall I water them for you?"

"If ye like, yeah."

 

She returned with water in two plastic cups, and Malcolm watched as she bent over the plants, trying not to stare at those curvy, shapely legs. He gulped as he glimpsed her stocking tops and an intriguing flash of smooth, pale skin just above them. God, it's been far too long, he thought, wistfully. And she seems nice, too...

She sensed him looking, and turned and smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Thanks, love. Look...do ye want to come back tomorrow, same time? I...I could do with your company, if I'm honest."

"Yes, Malcolm. I'd like that."

Their eyes locked as they shook hands, his skin warm against hers. She closed the door behind her, grinning, a sway in her hips as she walked back to Ed's office.


	2. Chapter 2

At five o'clock the next day, Millicent swayed towards Malcolm's office, her skyscraper heels clipping through the corridors. Once again, it had been a hell of a day, filled with memos, emails, organising, re-organising, then pulling everything at the last moment, the air filled with cries, with scheming, with panic. At one point, she'd passed an open door, and only just managed to dodge a hurled china cup. It smashed on the opposing wall, accompanied by a screamed torrent of abuse in which only the name "Julius" was audible. She noticed the two advisers again, speaking in hushed whispers at a desk. This time, the young one kept sneaking glances at her shoes, craning his long neck to get a better view until he nearly stumbled over backwards. She smiled and winked at him, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed. Later on, the short woman from the day before came trotting towards her, attempting to answer a Blackberry with one hand whilst carrying a slopping cup of black coffee with the other. Noticing Millicent, she slowed down as she approached her.

"Hello?" she said, "I've not seen you here before."

"Millicent. Pleased to meet you. I started yesterday."

"Hmm," the woman said, glancing at Millicent's feet with an expression that hovered between awestruck and aghast, "nice shoes. How do you walk in them?"

Her Blackberry peeped.

"Ah, sorry, must dash," she said, holding the phone to her ear and trotting off down the corridor, coffee sloshing into the saucer.

Finally, the main business of the day was over. She knocked on Malcolm's door.

"Come the fuck in," she heard him bark. She smiled - he was obviously in a good mood.

He was standing by his desk, and grinned broadly at her as she entered, gesturing at the chair.

"Coffee? Tell me all about yer day, pet."

She settled further back into the armchair and sipped her coffee, feeling herself almost audibly unwinding.

"Ah, yeah," Malcolm was saying, "that cup was thrown by wee Jamie. Brilliant guy. Completely fuckin' batshit, though."

Millicent thought it best not to agree too explicitly, and said instead, "The name he shouted sounded like Julian, Julius, something like that?"

"Yeah, he was referring to Lord Nicholson of Arnage. It's best not tae mention him tae Jamie, not unless ye want to make him really fuckin' angry."

There was a brief silence, as they both drank. Millicent noticed the top buttons of Malcolm's shirt were undone, his tie slightly loosened. She found herself gazing fascinated at his pale, almost translucent neck, until he caught her eye. She blushed. His grin turned positively wolfish.

Shit! she thought. He knows I fancy him! He cleared his throat.

"So, how are ye enjoying it so far?"

She gave him a brief synopsis, unable to think of anything else but him bending her over his desk and taking her, until her crossed legs started trembling. Eventually she stuttered to a close, glanced at the clock, and decided she really didn't want to leave.

"So, Mr Tucker..."

"Oh, Malcolm, love, please!"

Please...

"Is there anything I can do for you, whilst I'm in here?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"What did ye have in mind, love?"

"I could...tidy up your desk?"


	3. Malcolm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent cheers up Malcolm. Sex happens.

She bent over Malcolm's desk, placing the spilled pens back in their holders and rearranging the papers, feeling his eyes on her. She bent over a bit further, then turned her head and smiled at him, the tops of her stockings exposed, she knew, to his gaze.

"Everything OK?"

"Fine, lass. Ah...do ye point your bum at everyone you meet, love, or just tae people ye like?"

Her smile broadened, and seared his heart.

"Only people I like."

"Ah...an' would that include me at all?" She could practically hear his heart thumping as he said it.

"Oh, yes. Oh, so very much."

"Hmmm. And what would ye like me tae do about that, love?" he said, his voice deeper and sexier than ever.

"Make love to me," she whispered, with a come-hither look and a toss of her head.

"Fuck. OK. Wait just a moment..."

He strode to the door, opened it, took the laminated sign bearing the legend "Do Not Disturb Unless Fucking World War Three Breaks Out" off the doorknob and placed its loop around the front doorknob, then closed the door again. She smiled, closing her eyes as she felt him pressing up against her, felt his warm lips against her neck. One of his long hands mapped her curves, sliding down her flank to her hips. She took the hand in hers, brought it to her lips and kissed it, then turned to face him. He looked incredible; breathing hard, eyes gleaming, with a positively evil grin on his face.

"What is it, love?" he breathed. She smiled back.

"There's something I'd like to find out about you, Malcolm Tucker," she said. "There's a certain rumour circulating about you. I'd like to find out if it's true."

"Oh, aye? What would that be?" he said, eyes shining.

She descended to her knees by way of reply, skirt riding up to reveal her stocking tops, and a hopeless moan escaped his lips as she unzipped his grey trousers and untucked him from his black boxers.

"Oh my God, it's true," she murmured.

She held his hard cock, letting it rest, long, warm and heavy, against her small, pale palm for a moment, gazing at it as if it were the best Christmas present of her life. She licked her scarlet lips.

"Perfect," she murmured, and Malcolm moaned again as she peppered kisses down its length, from head to back and all the way back again. He watched, open-mouthed, as her lips finally closed around it, resembling a chocolate advert from his youth but about a million times sexier. Slowly and sensually, she started deep-throating him. Fearing his knees would buckle, he reached behind him and clung onto the desk, bracing himself against the dark wood. He looked down again, heavy-lidded, cock surrounded by her hot, wet mouth, and watched as she took him all the way then slowly, slowly pulled back again, exposing him to the cold air, willing her not to let him go, and sighed with relief as she took him down again. He whimpered, his nails digging into wood. He'd had plenty of blow jobs in his office from people who'd wanted promotions, but they paled into insignificance besides this one. Eyes closed, she hummed against him. She didn't want anything from him, and she wasn't doing him any favours - she just loved doing this, he realised. He swelled further inside her mouth, and moaned shamelessly.

"Ah...sorry, love. Any more of that and I'll fuckin' come."

She released him from her mouth and smiled up at him. Fuck, she's gorgeous, he thought, blinking stupidly at her.

"No problem. Would you like to come in my mouth? Or would you rather have a fuck?" 

He grinned.

"A fuck, love. Want ye to come too. Hang on."

He swept the files and notebooks off his desk with a flourish, and helped her to her feet. She hitched her skirt up around her waist, exposing her beautiful, stocking-clad legs entirely. She perched on the edge of the desk, gasping as Malcolm thrust a hand inside her thong. His breath hitched.

"Fuck, darlin', ye're so wet."

"All because of you, Malcolm."

He kissed her fiercely in response before pulling her thong to the side and thrusting hard inside her. Her whole body jolted; Christ, he felt amazing.

"Lie down, darlin'", he growled, "I'm goin' to make ye come so fuckin' hard."

She lay back, gasping in delighted surprise as he took hold of her high heels and placed her feet on his shoulders. He fucked her, fast and deep, with long, powerful thrusts, his skilled fingers playing, pinching and skating around her clit until she cried out. He shuddered, swelling further inside her, gazing down at where they joined, and it was all too much, and she came, screaming, gushing around his monstrous cock, coming again as he yelled and streamed inside her.

When she came back to herself, he was leaning over her on his elbows, panting, smiling and breathing hard.

"That was fuckin' incredible, love. Fuck me, I'm soaked."

He laughed and kissed her, and she kissed him back. He gathered her into his arms.

"Come back anytime ye like, love."

She kissed the tip of his nose.

"I fully intend to do just that, Malcolm."


	4. Jamie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent cheers up Jamie. Ferocious sex happens.

The next day, Millicent was walking down the corridor, report in hand, when the short, bob-haired woman she'd seen before, unmissable in a fire engine-red suit, came bustling up to her.

"Oh, hello again," she said. She gestured towards Jamie's office, four doors to the left ahead of them. They could both hear muffled curses and crashes emanating from it. "Are you actually going in there?"

"Well yes, actually I am, I need to deliver a report to him. Sorry - what was your name again?"

To her surprise, the woman patted her arm in a friendly fashion.

"Good luck. Oh - and great shoes, again." She turned and trotted off down the corridor, then broke into a run and disappeared around the corner.

Millicent stared after her, shook her head then walked up to Jamie's door and knocked. There was no answer so she opened the door, and her mouth dropped open. The office looked as if it had been torn apart by a moon-maddened werewolf. Broken bone china littered the carpet, the desk was overturned, the window blind ruched up and hanging forlornly from one strut. Jamie himself was pacing furiously, shirt sleeves rolled up, fists clenching and unclenching, locked into an angry inner world. She cleared her throat.

"Mr McDonald?"

He turned his head, his huge blue eyes flashing fire. For one horrible moment, she thought he would lunge at her and she would have to put her karate skills into practice and subdue him with an armlock. Then he snorted, derisively.

"Name's fuckin' Jamie, OK? I don't do fuckin' surnames, I'm no' a fuckin' English public-school wanker like Ollie fuckin' Reeder. What d'ye fuckin' want, anyway?"

He was staring at her, breathing hard, white teeth bared, the air crackling around him, improbably gorgeous with his close-curling black hair, pale skin and the bluest of blue eyes. Dismayed, she felt herself flooding, it was all so wrong, and yet...

"I've...brought that report you requested from Lord Nicholson..."

"Do! NOT! Mention that baldy cunt's name tae me again!" he howled.

He stormed over to the already-ruined blind and ripped it from the wall. It clattered to the floor. Then he turned and punched a side table, cracking the wood.

"Jamie!" she shouted, afraid for his safety. She grabbed his arm. He was staring at the floor. Then he looked up at her, and she saw with amazement that his beautiful eyes had filled with tears, and she felt herself drowning in them.

"Sweetheart," she whispered, "let me kiss it better for you."

She leaned forward and kissed him, passionately. A second later, she felt his arms flung around her as he kissed her back. She moaned into his mouth as he seized the hem of her short black dress and yanked it up to her waist. She tottered backwards on her heels, dragging him with her, until her backside hit the back of an antique leather sofa.

"Stockings," he growled in her ear, "fuckin' perfect. Going tae fuck ye now, love."

"Please do," she gasped as he pulled her knickers down, hard and fast. She held onto the back of the sofa and spread her legs, gasping as he thrust hard inside her. In her heels, she was taller than him, which allowed him to nip, nibble and bite her peaked nipples through the silk of her bra, his broad cock hitting her g-spot with each wild roll of his hips. In no time at all she was coming around him, shrieking, nails digging into leather, head thrown back and her loosened flood of hair spilling free. And he was still thrusting, hard as hell and wet with her.

"Aye - turn around, love - want tae see myself fuckin' ye," he gasped. "Want yer gorgeous cunt clenchin' around mae cock when ye come again, and ye fuckin' will."

And God, she was close already. She moaned with frustration as he pulled free, then turned around and held on tight to the sofa, crying out as his thrust back in nearly lifted her off her feet, gritting her teeth as he pounded her. One of his strong white hands grabbed hold of her suspender belt, pulling tightly on each outstroke as if controlling a pair of reins on a racehorse, whilst the other reached around and frantically stroked her overexcited clit. It was the wildest, most primal fuck she'd had in her life, and she imagined his pounding cock swelling further, and further, until - 

"Jamie!" she screamed, as she gushed and came around him. Seconds later, he erupted inside her with a huge yell, and collapsed against her. For a second, she thought she might be unconscious, and then she felt his weight against her, his sigh as he flopped free. He leaned against her shoulder, eyes at half-mast.

"Ah...thanks, love. Need tae...fuckin' lie down," Jamie murmured.

He had the sweetest, sleepiest smile on his face as she helped him to the sofa. He lay full length on it, not moving as she tucked him away and zipped him up again, then removed his shoes, laying them neatly together amid the chaos on the carpet. She took his coat from the overturned coat rack and laid it over him.

She stole a look at his peaceful, sleeping face, rearranged her hair and clothing, then left, softly closing the door behind her.

I think I'm going to enjoy working here, she thought.


	5. Malcolm and Jamie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party. Malcolm and Jamie can't stand parties. Millicent joins them. Scottish sex happens.

Millicent particularly liked working for Lord Julius Nicholson of Arnage. He was always so kind and generous, particularly with his biscuits - Millicent found that three of his favourite mandarin orange and chocolate biscuits had enough sugar content to power her through as many as two presentations and one seminar - and within a very short space of time they were on first name terms. One day he asked her if she'd like to attend the DoSAC office party as his guest.

"Really, Julius?" she said, the fine bone china cup of tea paused halfway between the saucer and her scarlet lips, "I'd love to. Thank you so much!"

He smiled genially at her.

"My pleasure, Millicent. I wonder if Malcolm will be there. Such a dear man," he said, with the suggestion of a sigh in his voice, "but he does so despise these get-togethers."

 

So they went to the party, Julius dapper in a Paul Smith suit, Millicent stunning in a green satin cocktail dress. It was a noisy party, becoming more so as the lights dipped and the evening wore on.

"Who's that?" Millicent said, indicating a small, floppy-haired man in an ill-fitting suit who was flailing angrily to "Super Freak" by Rick James.

"Fergus Williams. Rumour has it his party's going to join up with the Opposition."

"And who's she?" Millicent said, pointing at an attractive dark-haired woman who appeared to be fiddling with a small glass bottle. 

"That's Nicola Murray MP."

"She's - she's not doing drugs is she?"

"Oh no, my dear," Julius said, with a reassuring laugh. "It's just a commercially-available herbal remedy. I'm not sure it's wise to use it in conjunction with quite so many glasses of wine, though."

She caught sight of the two advisors, once again huddled in a corner. As they approached them, she could hear the younger one talking. He was clearly very drunk, and speaking in a raised voice.

"...that new PA? God, ssshe's gorgeous. Wouldn't mind her trampling me with those heels of hers."

"For Christ's sake, keep your voice down, Ollie!" the older one hissed. "And no thanks for that ghastly mental image, by the way!"

"Fuck's sake, you're so represshed, Glenn! It's only sex!"

"That's not sex, that's just bloody weird!"

"Yeah, well, it'ssh been a long time since you've done it, hasn't it? 'Bout 1812, was it?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Ollie, you little - Oh, hello," Glenn said, noticing Julius and Millicent standing next to them.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Julius said, his smile containing just a flash of teeth. "Let me introduce Millicent Mallory, our new PA."

Ollie looked at her unsteadily.

"Hi. I'm Ollie Reeder. I think."

"I've heard so much about you," she said, pleasantly.

He giggled, and then his long legs buckled underneath him. Glenn just had time to catch him before he crashed to the floor.

"Glenn Cullen," he said to Millicent. "I'm sorry about this. I'd love to stay and chat, but I'd better get this idiot home. He can't take his drink, you know. Two lager shandies and he's anybody's."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh, Christ! Sorry! I didn't mean that you were just anybody. I mean...Well, it's nice to meet you."

She smiled sweetly at him, and his ears turned pink. Then he hoisted one of Ollie's arms over his shoulders and started hauling him away.

A little later, Millicent excused herself from Julius' side and headed into the corridors, clutching her plastic cup of champagne. There had been no sign of Malcolm or Jamie anywhere. She rounded a corner, and saw a door she'd never noticed before. Quietly, she turned the doorknob and stepped in. 

The room was dimly lit, filled with abandoned furniture, with a green leather armchair propped against the far wall. Malcolm and Jamie were sitting on the floor, leaning against it, and much to her amazement they were kissing and fondling each other. Jamie's hand was fisted in Malcolm's collar, whilst Malcolm stroked down Jamie's shirtfront, and further down, hand grazing against the clearly-visible bulge in Jamie's black trousers. She gulped. She knew she ought to leave, but she found she couldn't move, couldn't think. Then Jamie turned his head and saw her.

"Oi, you! What are ye starin' at, love? Like watchin' men fuckin' do ye?" he said, his grin belying his harsh words.

"Don't be so fuckin' rude, Jamie," Malcolm said, kissing a line up the younger man's neck to his earlobe. "Like tae watch, do ye, love? I've got a better idea. Why don't ye come and join us instead?"

She nodded, dumbfounded, and walked towards them on shaking legs. They both took hold of her dress and pulled her gently down until she was kneeling on the carpet between them, taking turns to kiss her, hard and fast, until she was panting. Then Malcolm kissed her neck, and whispered in her ear:

"Sit down, love. You're gonna love this, I promise."

She sat down on the armchair and started as he took hold of her knickers. He practically purred as he drew them down her legs and over her stockings, then grinned as he hoisted her thighs over his shoulders. He ducked his head and she cried out as his tongue made contact with her slick flesh, gripping the arm rests of the armchair as he stroked her, hard, fast, gently and mercilessly.

"Tha's it, way tae shut him up," she heard Jamie say. "Christ, lass, ye look gorgeous."

She could feel, rather than see Jamie rutting up behind Malcolm, felt Malcolm moan as Jamie stroked him from behind. In no time at all, she was coming, the ceiling a blur. Malcolm licked her clean, and looked up at her, lips swollen, eyes shining.

"Another round, darlin'? Do ye want my cock in you?"

She bent down and kissed him, before rising to her feet and turning around, kneeling on the the armchair. She glanced behind her, to see Malcolm standing, shirt undone, Jamie unfastening his trousers.

"Perfect, darlin'" he said.

She moaned loudly as he thrust hard inside her, arching her back, wanting more and more of him. She heard him moaning, stiffening even further as first Jamie's fingers, then Jamie's cock penetrated him. She held on to the armchair, crying out as he pounded her, her breath sobbing out, her thighs wet with them, the force of Jamie's wild thrusts powering through her being, setting her alight. She spread her legs further, feeling as if they were both inside her, and loving it. How would it feel, she thought, hazily, with both their cocks within her, thrusting side by side...

Malcolm came explosively inside her, moaning loudly, fingers swiping her clit, and she came, howling, as Jamie shuddered behind them. They collapsed against each other, and lay exhausted, drowsing for several minutes. She kissed them both, then stood unsteadily, promising to see them again soon, then left the storeroom, closing the door softly after her.

Rejoining the party, she walked up to Julius.

"There you are!" he said, smiling. "Enjoying it so far?"

"Oh yes," she said, smiling back. "Very much. You know, Julius, I love working here."


	6. Ollie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Millicent acquires a new "pet", named Ollie.

The irritating ring tone sounded, and Ollie Reeder fished inside his pocket, retrieved his mobile and answered it.

"Oh hi, Emma, are we still on for the film later?...Uh, how about Friday, then?...No? God, Pearson's got you working hard. OK, how about dinner, Saturday night, I'll cook something...yes, I do know how to cook spaghetti, thanks for that...what do you mean, I'm just trying to get inside your knickers?...No, honestly I'm not...damn it," he said as he heard her hang up. He pouted with disappointment, and the phone trilled again.

"Hi Dan, are we still playing squash Thursday...yeah, haha, fun, wasn't it...you beat me good and proper, you bad boy...sorry, it's an awful line, you want me to call you my what?...what, here?" Ollie said, skin prickling, his voice dropping to a whisper, a lascivious grin spreading across his face. "Oh, alright then...Master..."

He glanced sideways, to see Millicent watching him with great interest, a hand sassily planted on her hip. His cheeks started burning, and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Ah, a, masterly game, of squash. Yeah. Of course it was. Nice talking to you, Dan. Bye."

He swallowed hard as he switched his phone off.

"Um, hi," he said, flustered, his gaze roaming down her body and coming to rest on her sexy shoes, "Sorry, I've gotta go. Things are really kicking off over the Clarkson report."

He hurried off, Millicent gazing after him. Well, he's certainly cute, she thought. And evidently quite the masochist. And he really likes my shoes. Now, this could be fun.

Malcolm was out of the office the next day, so at five o'clock Millicent sent an email via her phone:

Hi Ollie,

I've got some things to show you. I think you'll like them. Are there any meeting rooms free at the moment?

Millicent.

One minute and thirty seconds later, her email pinged.

Hi there

Yes, Room 3A's free, I've just checked. See you in five?

O

She smiled, took her lipstick and mirror from her handbag, retouched her scarlet heart of a mouth, and picked up her shopping bag.

He was waiting for her and nodded as she swayed towards him, clipping down the corridor on those heels. Nervously, he opened the door for her, ushered her in, then closed and locked the door. She turned and smiled at him.

"Now, Ollie," she said, "I'd like your opinion on these shoes. I was going to wear them to work, but I thought they might be too sexy."

She reached into the bag and drew out a pair of spike-heeled, black patent leather shoes, complete with studded ankle straps. She watched him closely, noticed his pupils dilating as he gazed at them, heard his breath hitching. He was hers, and they both knew it.

"And that's not all," she said, drawing out a black studded leather collar and lead. It was in fact a present for her friend's Dalmatian, but, she reckoned, it would fit nicely round the pale, slender neck in front of her, too.

"It's completely up to you, but would you like to wear it for me?" She leaned forward. "Be my pet?"

Ollie gave a slightly frantic nod in response, and she reached up and ruffled his dark curls. Instinctively, he knelt down in front of her. She buckled the straps around his neck then attached the lead to the metal loop at the back, grinning as it clicked into place. She noticed with great satisfaction that he was very hard, practically bursting through his trousers with need; ready to come already, and they'd scarcely even touched.

"Now," she said, sitting down on a nearby chair, pulling on the lead and kicking off her shoes, "put my new shoes on my feet."

He took hold of her right foot and slipped on the sexy shoe, hands trembling as he fastened the strap, kissed the top of her foot, then did the same with the other shoe. She tightened her hold on the lead, and he looked up at her through half-closed eyes. She could practically hear him panting. She spread her legs and he let out a whimpering sound at the sight: she wasn't wearing underwear. She smiled at the sight of him licking his reddened lips, seeing her spread out and glistening.

"Make me come," she whispered, "That's an order."

He lurched forwards on his knees, burying his face in her luscious depths, moaning as she reeled him further in with the leash. She felt first one, then two, then three of his fingers thrusting inside her and curling upwards. She moaned, too, grabbing his curls with her free hand and bucking against his mouth as he licked her, his talented tongue swirling in circles, figures of eight, until she came, gasping, gushing around his fingers.

She slumped, exhausted, feeling his watchful eyes on her, saw him biting into his lower lip. Time to reward him, she thought. She extended her foot, locking him with her eyes as she stroked his crotch with her foot. He gasped, and, on her nod, unzipped himself and pressed his desperately hard, leaking cock against the black patent leather of her shoe, rutting against it.

"That's it," she murmured. "You love being my pet, don't you? Being on the leash, on your hands and knees, kissing my feet..."

He came hard, choking back a cry, streaming over her shoe, soaking the silk of her stocking, then slumped, his face resting against her stockings, the soft skin of her thighs. She stroked his hair, then bent down and kissed his beautiful mouth.

"Good boy," she whispered.


	7. Glenn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent cheers up Glenn, because it's been a long time since he had any fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentler and quite a bit less explicit than the other chapters. Usual smut levels will resume in Chapter 8...

"1997? What was so special about 1997?"

"Don't you remember, Glenn, my superannuated mate?" Ollie said, leaning back in his swivel chair. "It was the year of our great election victory. Also significant because it was the last time you ever had sex." He snorted with laughter. "I can see you now, at the victory party, in some back alley in Neasden, pinned to the wall by some busty receptionist who was even more pissed than you! Bet that got your flag flying, eh?"

"Oh, haha, very funny, Ollie," Glenn said, morosely. "When you've finally grown up, you'll realise there's more to life than just mindlessly getting your leg over every night!"

"Yeah," said Ollie, through a mouthful of black coffee, "but not much more."

He smirked. Glenn scowled back at him. Ollie's jibe hurt because it was uncomfortably close to the truth. Ever since Glenn's wife had left him...no, no, he didn't want to think about that now. Still, he thought, at least Millicent was going to swing by for a chat later on, after hours. He looked forward to her visits; she seemed such a kind, understanding woman. And she was very beautiful, too, which was a bonus.

"I think," she said, later that evening, "you need a massage."

Glenn shrugged and turned around, feeling her small, surprisingly strong hands manipulating his shoulders.

"Good God," she said, "they feel like iron. When was the last time someone did this for you?"

He turned to look at her.

"They never have."

Her face fell, and he felt bad; bad for saddening her, bad for the past fifteen years of his life, bad for opening his mouth in the first place. He was just about to make his excuses and leave, when her face suddenly bloomed into a smile.

"Look," she said, "I'm going to suggest something. Are you busy tonight?"

"I..." Glenn started, thinking of his unlit house, his empty bed. "No, not at all."

"This is completely up to you. If you don't want to do it, we'll never mention it again but...would you like me to give you a full body massage?"

Glenn gulped, and in a tiny voice said, "Yes."

He drove her back to her flat in Richmond, and once there she supplied him with a white towelling dressing gown and told him where the shower was, where the towels were kept. At his insistence, he showered after her, wrapped himself up in the robe and walked into her bedroom. The room was very warm, painted dark red and lit by scented candles, vanilla, white musk and sandlewood. She was standing there, in her scarlet satin gown. She smiled to him, and gestured towards the massage mat on the carpet. After a pause, he took off the dressing gown and lay on his front. He felt exposed and nervous at first, but then her hands, warm with oil, descended on him, massaging away all the strife and tension and anxiety of the past twenty years.

Funny thing is, he mused as she caressed his back, I actually haven't felt this good since 1997.

He let his mind drift, floating, until she gently told him to turn over. He rolled over, and saw her sitting up on her haunches in front of him. She was naked. And stunning. Smiling at him. Her skin luminously pale in the dim golden light, her black hair flowing down her back. He gazed up at her, awestruck.

"If this is a dream, please don't wake me," he said, quietly.

She straddled him, and he laughed, incredulously - it was as if an angel had landed in his lap and flown him to heaven. Then she descended further, and his laugh turned into a gasp.

They found a slow rhythm together, and he remembered how easy it was. A bit like learning to ride a bike again, he thought. Oh, what was he thinking - it was so much better than that. It was...it was...wonderful...

Much later, they fell asleep in her big double bed, holding each other. Then, after a dreamless sleep, the sun rose, and there was coffee and croissants, and they chatted and agreed to stay friends, and it was enough.

He drove them both into work and, just as she undid her seatbelt, he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For making me - well, for making me feel like a man, again."

She smiled, sweetly, squeezed his hand and opened the door.

It was noted that Glenn was in an unusually good mood that morning. His intermittent whistling of ELO's "Mr Blue Sky" got on some of his colleagues' nerves. It particularly annoyed Ollie, who, tired and hungover, collar upturned to hide some vicious-looking love bites, slapped a pen down on his desk and glared over the top of his computer at Glenn.

"What have you got to be so fucking happy about, Granddad?" he snapped. "Did you win at the Bingo? Or have you - by some miracle of science - actually pulled?"

Glenn raised his eyebrows and smiled, enjoying the sight of his young friend's mouth falling wide open in shock.

"Fuck - !" Ollie gasped.

"That's quite right, Ollie," Glenn said, serenely.

He stifled a laugh as he scrolled through his emails, with Ollie, for once, rendered completely speechless.


	8. Malcolm and Nicola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicola's had a bad day, week, month, you name it. Lucky thing Malcolm and Millicent are around to give her some TLC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in completing this chapter - it's been a difficult couple of weeks. But now it's here - hope you like it!

Nicola placed her head in her hands and groaned aloud. Even by her standards it had been a shit week. Ella had sworn at her mum again, James was threatening to take the house and there was yet another expenses row brewing. God knows how that was going to go down, it was only a matter of time before - 

Something rapped on the window. She looked up. Oh, Christ, she thought.

"Nicky, darling! Do you have time for a little chat-ette? I can come back later, of course, sweetheart! If there's something else you'd rather be doing! You dozy fucking mare!"

Steve Fucking Fleming, as welcome as a poisoned mushroom on a birthday cake. He was standing at the window, vibrating with tension, all crazed grin and bristling moustache, his eyes black buttons of hatred.

After forty minutes of a particularly vicious and creepy bollocking, Nicola felt exhausted and slightly soiled. With a sigh, she turned back to her computer screen. Then Terri burst in, so suddenly that Nicola nearly slid off her chair in shock.

"Just wondered if you fancied a coffee, Minister?"

"Jesus Christ, Terri, don't you ever knock?! Yeah, I'll have a coffee, thank you! Laced with fucking cyanide, if you'd be so kind!"

Terri hovered by the door.

"Not a good time for you, then?"

"...oh Christ, just leave me alone."

"Right."

Terri left. Nicola, nearly in tears, started sorting through her emails. And then the phone rang. Shit. Malcolm's number on the display. Heart thumping, she answered it.

"Christ, I'm sorry, Malcolm. It's my fault, it's all my fault, please, try and understand I did the best I - "

"Nicola? Are you OK?" 

Definitely not Malcolm. Nicola's eyes widened. It was the new PA. The one everyone had a crush on - herself, included.

"Y-yes. Thank you. Millicent, isn't it?"

"That's right. Nicola, are you doing anything tonight?"

"Not especially. I was just going to go home. The kids are at Mum's. I was planning on recovering alone with a stiff drink or three. Why?"

"Great. Get your coat. Malcolm and I have a surprise for you."

Well, perhaps the day's getting better, after all, Nicola thought.

Outside, much to her surprise, she was ushered into a black limousine with darkened windows. Inside, there was Malcolm, in a Paul Smith suit, a bottle of something fizzy in an ice bucket next to him, and wearing - could it be? - a smile that indicated he was very pleased to see her. She slid inside the limo next to him, and he kissed her cheek, smelling gorgeously of musk, oranges and cologne.

"Nic'la! I understand you had tae see that cunt Fleming earlier?" he murmured.

She shuddered. "Oh Christ, don't remind me."

He uncorked the bottle in response, and there was silence as the champagne sizzled and lapped into a glass. He handed it to her. She noted, with a thrill of pleasure, that the privacy screens were closed, and in a few minutes they'd be entirely alone together.

"Come on, love," he called towards the open door. Nicola heard the sound of heels clipping on the pavement, and then Millicent slid into the seat beside her. She smiled brightly at Nicola. Nicola felt as if she was melting. Malcolm grinned.

"Let's go, eh?"

Halfway through the journey, she let her head rest a little too long on Malcolm's shoulder, her left hand rest a little too long on Millicent's right thigh. Malcolm, taking the hint, gently took hold of her chin and lifted her face to his, and she kissed him, slow and steady, his expert tongue plundering her mouth. Her skin prickled pleasurably as she felt Millicent stroking her arm. Once the kiss was over, she turned to Millicent and kissed her petal-soft, full lips; she hadn't kissed another woman since just after university, and she was delighted to be doing it again. They took turns kissing her, caressing her over her clothes until she was sighing with pleasure.

"See, after the fuckin' dreadful experience ye've had, fer which I'm truly sorry," Malcolm murmured, kissing her neck, "ye'll want tae take back a bit of fuckin' control, right? So, for the purposes of this evening, darlin' Millicent and I are your servants. Your every wish, pet, is our fuckin' command."

Nicola kissed Millicent again, and sighed.

"Sounds good to me."

They supported her up the steps to the hotel, and Nicola's eyes widened at the ornate marble halls and pinnacles within. They led her, hand in hand, through the lusciously carpeted corridors, and into the mirrored lift, where, through a daze, she glimpsed three pairs of them kissing. Finally, it reached its destination, the doors swung open, and then they'd reached the room. Malcolm unlocked it, and Nicola stepped inside, switching on the light. It was gorgeous; painted in delicate lilacs and blues, with a huge four-poster bed dominating the far corner, multiple sofas and chairs, a mini-bar and, best of all, a massive sunken whirlpool bath, warm blue water eddying and curling in its depths, steps leading down.

"What d'ye want us tae do? Just name it, pet," Malcolm murmured against her neck.

"Anything," Millicent added, stroking her flank.

Nicola smiled gratefully, and kissed them both.

"Undress me," she said, "I'd like a bath, now. With both of you. Undress me, and then strip for me."

They gently pulled Nicola's suit away from her, piece by piece, and she watched with pleasure as they stripped for her, their movements slow and graceful. She felt them looking at her naked body, drinking her in, heard the hitches in their breath, saw their arousal in Malcolm's hardened cock, Millicent's peaked, rosy nipples, in their shining eyes and flushed skin.

When they were naked, they took both of her hands in theirs and led her down the steps, and she shivered with pleasure as she descended into the warm, swirling water. She closed her arms around both their gorgeous, slippery bodies and started kissing them, frantically. Her eyes closed as their hands roamed all over her, over her breasts, her thighs, her back, her bum, the heat between her legs. Finally, she took her feet off the ridged floor and let the water support her, leaning back on the heaving surface of the waves and gripping the side of the bath, as if she was in a swimming pool.

"Darling," Millicent murmured, "you look so beautiful."

Nicola smiled up at her.

"You too," she sighed. "Caress me. And Malcolm? Fuck me. Make me come, you two. Make me feel alive."

"Our pleasure, lass," Malcolm intoned, and Nicola's whole body jolted as he thrust inside her; fuck, he felt amazing, filling her, so completely. She could see his slim torso rearing out of the water as he rode her, riding the waves, his lips parted in pleasure. Millicent was caressing her peaked nipples, her beautiful mouth pursed in contemplation, her mermaid hair trailing over Nicola's skin, kissing her as she struggled for air, for breath, the beautiful painted ceiling blurring and flailing. She moaned, shamelessly, between kisses, arching her entire body, wanting more and more of them.

"God! Please! Please, make me come! I need it, I need it, please..." she cried.

Two sets of fingertips closed over her clit and over and across the base of Malcolm's thrusting cock, stroking gently, then more firmly, then faster and faster, until her body convulsed and she screamed, pulsing at the speed of sound, the world a blur, sobbing and lost in herself, until she felt herself held gently by two sets of arms and the world righted itself again as they gently righted her, her feet touching the floor once more.

They helped her out of the bath, dried her, wrapped themselves in bath towels and lay on the massive bed with her, taking turns to kiss her. Nicola blissfully kissed them back, and gazed contentedly at them. And then she noticed something.

"Malcolm?" she murmured, gesturing downwards. "You didn't come?"

"Nah," he said, smiling at her. "Tonight's all about you, pet."

She smiled at both of them, as Millicent stroked her hair.

"Well, you know, it's not like me to be selfish. And we've got all night. Come on," she said, laughing as she knelt up and undid her towel, "let me return the favour. We've got all night, after all..."


	9. Malcolm and Nicola Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because they haven't finished just yet. ;)

"Oh, aye? What d'ye want us tae do, then?" said Malcolm, cocking an eyebrow at Nicola.

Nicola smiled at them both, then reached over and unfastened one of the gold silk ropes from the drapes overhanging the four poster bed. She grinned at him.

"I'd like to tie you up, Malcolm. Then we'll both go to town on you."

He grinned back. Millicent smiled, too, her lips parted.

"Tha's very fuckin' OK with me, lass. Have your fuckin' wicked ways with me, you two."

Naked, he lay down and extended his arms towards the bed posts. Nicola and Millicent took one end each of the rope and set about binding his wrists, both checking to make the knots weren't too tight, and at the same time, impossible for him to escape without their help. Once they'd secured him, they leaned forward across his torso and kissed each other.

"Fuck," Malcolm hissed, struggling. Nicola bent down and placed a palm on his chest,

"Stop that," she murmured, "or we'll leave you to suffer for longer."

He whimpered high in his throat at the news, and squeezed his eyes shut as Millicent stroked an elegant hand down his torso, stopping just short of his desperately hard, aching cock.

"He's been everso patient," she murmured, "shall we reward him now?"

Nicola smiled.

"Oh, I think he can wait a little bit longer, don't you?" she said. 

Millicent grinned as Nicola bent forward to kiss her again. They kissed for long minutes, and then Millicent broke away and opened the top drawer of the ornate bedside table.

"They think of everything, these places," she said.

She drew out a pristine black ceramic box, and opened it. Within it was a new black leather cock ring.

"This should keep him under control, until we've had our fun, at least," she murmured.

Malcolm tried to lie still as Millicent clicked the ring into place. He suppressed a moan as they kissed their way down his torso, and gasped loudly as they each took hold of his cock and ran their tongues over it with agonizing slowness, as if it was the most delicious ice cream in the world. Finally, Millicent exchanged a meaningful look with Nicola.

"I think he's hard enough, now, don't you, darling?" she said.

"I'd say," said Nicola.

They both straddled Malcolm's lap and pressed his cock against their soaked flesh, Nicola straddling its underside, Millicent facing away from Malcolm, so he had a fabulous view of her beautiful back, curvy arse and flowing black hair.

"Is this OK, Malcolm?" Nicola said. "I wouldn't like you to think we were just, you know, objectifying you..."

"Fuck," Malcolm growled, "I fuckin' love bein' your plaything, you two. Fuck it, move."

"Right."

They started grinding against Malcolm's cock with increasing speed, kissing and stroking one another frantically. Finally, their fingers contacted Malcolm's cock, caressing each other, and they moaned into each other's mouths as they came. Gasping, Millicent undid the clasp on Malcolm's cock ring, and he cried out, come arching in the air and splattering all the way to his chest.

They loosened Malcolm's bonds, freeing him, then lay either side of him as he embraced them, the three of them breathless, exhausted and happy.

"Feelin' better, Nicola? Was that sweet enough for ya?" he asked, kissing her forehead. Nicola kissed him, then kissed Millicent, before laying her head in the crook of his neck.

"Oh yes," she whispered. "Very sweet indeed."


	10. Emma and Ollie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Ollie need something extra in their sex life, which Millicent is only too pleased to provide.

Emma Messinger smiled at Millicent as she walked back to their table, carrying two large glasses of Pinot Grigio.

"There you go," she said, handing a glass to Millicent as she took her seat again. Millicent's hand closed around the cold, frosted glass as she studied the pretty blonde in front of her. The small bar was lit by candlelight, casting sparkles in the crystalline blue depths of Emma's eyes, and the canoodling couples around them were far too engrossed in each other to pay any heed to what they were saying. She cleared her throat.

"So, you were saying...things between you and Ollie, not going so well?" she said.

Emma sighed, and glanced from side to side. Millicent placed a pale hand on hers.

"It's OK. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." 

Emma blinked gratefully at her.

"No, no, it's fine. I've got to tell someone. Oh Millicent, I'm going mad with frustration."

"It won't go any further than here, I promise."

"It's...well, it's the sex, Millicent. All he wants is for me to tie him up and totally dominate him, and it's just not my thing. Actually," she said, her voice dropping to a murmur, "I'd - I'd like to be completely dominated, but he just doesn't want to do it. He says it's not in his nature." She took a sip of wine. "I mean, it certainly makes for some interesting conversations, but sexually I think we're incompatible."

Millicent nodded in understanding. Ollie seemed to be someone who liked relinquishing all control, and evidently Emma liked that, too. Emma was looking at her sadly.

"What am I going to do?"

Millicent smiled.

"Have another drink?"

Several drinks later, Millicent decided it was time they headed home. Coats on, breath frosting in the cold autumn air, they walked towards the taxi rank. Emma was clinging to her arm, leaning against her and laughing.

"Oh my God! I still can't believe we're going to do this!"

She drew Millicent into a deep hug and kissed her, gratefully. Millicent withdrew gently and smiled down at her.

"Maybe we will, but not tonight. Think about it over the next few days, yes? You need to be completely clear-headed to do this sort of thing."

Emma pouted. "But I AM sure about it!"

"Trust," Millicent whispered, bending and kissing her forehead. "Trust is vital. And you need to make sure Ollie's OK with it all, too."

"Are you kidding?" Emma said. "He'll think all his birthdays and Christmases have come at once."

"Talk to him first. Here's my card," Millicent said, handing it to her. "Call me in a few days. When you're sober. And that's an order!"

Emma grinned.

"Yes, Mistress!"

The taxi pulled up.

Three nights later

Millicent clicked the deep purple velvet cuffs closed, and sat back on her haunches.

"Mmm," she murmured, "that's such a lovely colour for you both."

She turned sideways to survey her reflection in the full length mirror. There was no doubt about it, she really looked very fetching. A black satin underbust corset that revealed her large, stunning breasts to full effect, her trademark silk stockings and suspenders, long black silk gloves that sleeved her arms to the elbow, black nipple tassels and a very cute black cat eyemask, with her long black hair flowing down her back. She looked every inch a showgirl, and she knew it. She smiled.

She looked down at her two captives, wrists fastened together by two sets of velvet cuffs, naked, pressed together, their lips inches apart. She liked what she saw.

"Remember," she murmured, "you can't move unless I give you permission."

She started stroking their bodies in long, languorous strokes, eliciting gasps and sighs from them both, watching as their eyes closed and their cheeks flushed. Emma willingly parted her legs as Millicent stroked up her inner thigh, and Millicent murmured in satisfaction as she saw just how wet the younger woman had become.

"Nice start, darling," she murmured. 

She picked up a double sided leather paddle, purple to match the cuffs, and held it up , so both her captives could see it.

"This is such as clever little thing," she said, rotating it in her silk-gloved hands. "One side's all pain," she said, showing them the gleaming purple leather side, "and the other's pure pleasure," she said, stroking a hand over the faux-fur covering the other side. "What's it going to be? And who's going first?"

"Emma first," Ollie said, in a strained voice.

"Very chivalrous of you," Millicent said, pleased. "Emma? What would you like, sweetheart?"

"Ten spanks, please, Mistress," Emma gasped out. "Then some stroking."

"Very well. Brace yourself..."

Emma whimpered as Millicent spanked her with the paddle, her hands bunching into fists and her back tensing. She slumped, gasping, when Millicent had finished.

"Good girl," Millicent cooed, running a silk-gloved hand over Emma's rounded, rosy buttocks, "you've gone all pink."

She started running the faux-fur side over Emma's bottom, soothing it, smiling as she watched the younger woman kissing Ollie. She bent and kissed Emma's cheek, then scooted around to Ollie's side.

"Your turn," she murmured. "What would you like, darling?"

"Twenty spanks," Ollie murmured. "No stroking. Hard, please."

"As you wish."

She spanked him, hard, watching his face as he winced and bit into his lower lip. Finally, she stopped, admiring his reddened arse. No skin broken, so she didn't need to tend to him, but he'd have some difficulty sitting down the next day. But he'd probably like that, she mused.

"Very well," she said, "you may make love, now."

Emma smiled, then turned over, tipping Ollie onto his back, and wriggled down onto his hugely hard cock, until he was seated deep within her. They moved together like snakes, thrusting against each other, kissing frantically. Millicent was about to offer to lend them a hand, when Emma suddenly threw back her head and gasped, followed almost immediately by Ollie.

They slumped back against the pillows, and Millicent uncuffed them immediately, her own thighs trembling. She watched them kiss, then Emma turned to face her.

"That was amazing. How can we ever thank you?"

Millicent smiled at her.

"Oh, I think you know..." she said, as she lay back on the pillows between them.

And five minutes later, with Emma kissing and sucking her nipples and Ollie's face buried between her thighs, she knew she was right about that.


	11. Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent cheers up Phil, who needs to calm down after a particularly savage bollocking from Malcolm (inspired by Series 3, Episode 4). "Love In An Elevator" happens.

Millicent stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The doors swished shut, and she began her ascent. It stopped again on the third floor, and a tall, harassed-looking young man with longish dark-blond hair stumbled inside. Wild-eyed, he punched several buttons as if in a panic, then leaned heavily against the side of the lift as the doors closed.

"Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.

"Fuck," he whimpered, "he's gonna kill me..."

They both started as the lift jolted to a halt and the lights flickered. The young man put his face in his hands.

"He's put a curse on me. I knew it. I knew it! He's the fucking devil!"

"Are you OK? Who's the devil?" Millicent asked.

"No, I'm not. Malcolm Tucker."

He thumped at the open button. Nothing happened, and he groaned in despair. She placed a hand on his arm.

"I...I can't comment about Malcolm," she said, tactfully - she liked Malcolm, and he her, though she knew he wasn't nearly as nice to many people as he was to her - "but, look, we'll get out of here soon, I promise. I'll ring the alarm bell."

"No - please don't," he said, his eyes pleading. "Not yet. I wanna get out once I know he's gone!"

"OK," Millicent said, pulling out her phone, "I'll check his diary. Hmmm. He's got a meeting in 15 minutes, so you'd be able to get out the building then."

"You're - you're very kind," he said, sniffling. "Um, sorry, I don't know your name."

"Millicent. Yours?" she said, smiling encouragingly at him.

"Phil," he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"Nice to meet you, Phil." Poor guy, she thought, he's in a real state. God knows what Malcolm's said to him.

"Could you...I mean, would you mind...holding me for a bit?"

Millicent closed her arms around his slim frame in response. After a while, she felt his heart rate slowing, felt his body relaxing against hers, and she stroked his back encouragingly. He lowered his head, burying his face in her raven-black hair. And then she felt something else.

"Oh, Christ. I'm sorry..." he said, angling himself away from her. She smiled up at his guilty expression.

"It's OK. I don't mind. Hold me again," she said, hugging him. Then, she looked up at him again, enjoying the way his face started relaxing into a smile. He was really quite cute, she thought.

"Would you like to kiss me?" she said. "It's OK, we can always play I-Spy for fifteen minutes instead, if you'd rather."

"Ah..." he said, "actually, I...rather like the sound of your first suggestion."

She stood up on tiptoe, he leaned down, and the two of them started kissing, first softly, then more ardently. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled gently, and he moaned into her mouth. Encouraged, she pushed him against the back of the lift, and he gasped as he felt her undoing his trousers.

"I...ah...haven't done this for quite a while," he murmured. "Don't...don't wanna disappoint you..."

She kissed him, fiercely, and he moaned as she pulled down the front of his briefs, releasing him.

"You won't," she whispered. "Just you stay exactly where you are."

She hitched up her pencil skirt, pulled her thong to one side, stood on tiptoe and guided him inside her, and he moaned appreciatively as he was surrounded by her tight, wet heat. She grabbed his left shoulder and left hip, using them for leverage as she rocked herself, the angle hitting her G-spot in a delightful fashion. Phil gazed at her, awestruck, his hands ghosting down her flanks to her hips.

"God, you're amazing," he moaned, "ravish me!"

She threw her head back in response, and he held onto her hips as she moved faster, swelling inside her, until she cried out in ecstacy and his head hit the back of the lift, shouting out to all the gods who had obviously saved him.

They kissed again, recovering their breath as they disentangled themselves, managing to reorder their clothing just in time for the lift door to open again. Malcolm stood in the doorway, his eyebrows arching heavenward as he stepped in.

"Millicent!" he intoned. "What's this? Teaching the young 'uns a thing or two, I see?" 

He gave Phil a look. Phil gulped, visibly, and turned pale.

"Uh, this is my floor. Bye, Millicent. And thank you."

He sprinted through the doors and was lost to sight as they closed behind him. Malcolm leaned forward and kissed her.

"Naughty girl," he whispered. "I like you so much."

"Thanks, Malcolm. I like you too."


	12. Jamie and Ollie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For rubywallace25. Thanks for the prompt! It was great fun to write! xx

The late night briefing was over, and the delegates had almost filed out of the meeting room. Jamie turned his head and winked at Millicent.

"Drink?" he mouthed.

She crinkled her nose in a smile, and nodded back. She checked her mobile.

"Ah. Looks like the bar's closed."

"Nae problem, love," Jamie said. "Hey, Poxbridge!"

Ollie, heading towards the door, turned to face them.

"Uh...?"

"We're havin' a nightcap, ya twat. Fancy joinin' us?"

"Oh...OK. Why not?"

"An' this," Jamie said, taking a spindly key out of his right inside top pocket with a flourish, "is the fuckin' motherlode."

He turned the key in the lock, found the light switch, and the others walked in after him, their eyes wide. The room was laid out like an interior from the Brighton Pavilion: long portraits of eminent 18th Century figures on the walls, beautifully carved chairs, elegant, gold-inlayed drapes and sumptuous, well-upholstered furniture. The jade-green walls were painted in a delicate frieze of ivy leaves.

"Wow," Ollie said, looking around him.

"I never knew this was here," said Millicent, toying with the gold tassel on a nearby silk cushion.

"Hardly anyone fuckin' does," Jamie said. "Wanna know the best bit, though?" he said, grinning, as he flung open a concealed fridge door. "The mini-bar! Fuckin' champagne, anyone?"

Millicent smiled as she leaned back against the back of the green and gold chaise lounge and reached across Ollie to take the champagne bottle back from Jamie. She placed it to her lips and took another swig, feeling their eyes on her. She made a bit of a show of licking her scarlet lips afterwards, enjoying the way their eyes lit up. She passed the bottle to Ollie, then leaned across him again and kissed Jamie, enjoying the way he moaned into her mouth, his evident hair-trigger arousal, and the way Ollie's cheeks flushed as he looked at them. She smiled at Jamie as she broke the kiss.

"I think someone's feeling left out, don't you?" she whispered. He smiled back. 

"Aye," he said, and leaned towards Ollie. "Fancy a kiss, ye cunt?" he asked him.

"Welll, since you ask so nicely - " Ollie said, not finishing the sentence as Jamie grabbed him by the tie and started snogging him for dear life. Millicent, tipsy now, watched them kiss, the edges of the dimly-lit room fading into gold. It was like one of those intense dreams you have before waking, she thought, hot and sweet and over all too quickly when the alarm goes off. Better make it a good one, she thought.

She smiled as she extended herself on the chaise lounge, hitched up her skirt over her stocking tops, and pulled her thong to the side. Then she reached over to Ollie, who was still kissing Jamie, and gently pulled his tie until she'd reeled him in altogether and the two of them were face to face. Jamie scooted up behind him, and began raking his neck with his sharp white teeth, the three of them pulling off each others' clothes until the only clothed one was Millicent in her stockings and high heels.

"Make love to me?" she husked in Ollie's ear. He gave a slightly frantic nod as he aligned himself against her, cool skin against her warm body, and they both moaned as he thrust inside her. She wrapped her stocking-clad legs around his slender back, lifting her legs just enough that he could hold and caress her sexy high heels. She knew he loved them. She ran her long crimson nails down his spine, increasing the pressure, then scratching until he gasped. Over his head, she could see Jamie rolling a condom onto his stiff dick, saw him stroking lube over himself - oh, boy, she thought, this should be quite a ride.

Ollie's whole body tensed and he moaned, on the knife edge between pleasure and pain as Jamie thrust into him. Millicent's head hit the base of the chaise lounge and she moaned, too, their combined weight pressing just so on the apex of her crotch, Jamie's and Ollie's thrusts creating delicious vibrations through her whole being. The three of them took turns frantically kissing each other, their excitement ricocheting between them.

"Christ," Ollie moaned, pinned between them, wincing in pleasure as Jamie sank his teeth into his neck again, "fuck me, you two..."

And Jamie did just that, powering into him, faster and faster. Millicent closed her lips around both sets of slender hips, bucking against them until she came, unexpectedly hard and fast, crying out, her long, black hair sweeping against the carpet, barely registering when Ollie came with a loud cry and Jamie with a roar.

They collapsed against her, panting hard, and lay together, sweating, sated and exhausted. And then, the door swung open.

"Do you mind, I'm trying to - oh," Terri said, stopping dead, her mouth falling open. There was a pause.

"Um...what's going on?" she said.

"Well," Ollie said, slightly breathlessly, "it's...it's a role play exercise. Jamie was up on that table, and he had to fall, and we had to catch him, and, well, as you can see, Terri, it's all gone a bit wrong."

"Naked?! And what was that roaring noise?" Terri said. Clearly, she didn't believe him.

"That was...that was a vocal warm-up," Millicent said. Her head was still inverted and she had a good view of Terri's high heels. "Makes your face nice and stretched and relaxed when you're giving speeches."

"And why are you all in here, anyway? No-one's supposed to - "

"Oh, fer fuck's sake!" Jamie exploded. "Terri, we've just had a fuckin' three-way, alreet? Unless ye've got somethin' tae contribute tae it, fuck off!"

"Very well," Terri sniffed. "I don't care what you lot get up to behind closed doors. But I'm putting a presentation together at the last minute, so next time, for the love of God, would you keep the noise down!"

She turned on her heel and slammed the door, and walked off down the corridor. Well, aren't they mucky pups, she thought. Oh, well. I'm meeting up with Peter Mannion tomorrow afternoon for a briefing. I wonder if he'll like these shoes?


End file.
